


unworthy

by wastelandzbaby



Series: Of Odinson [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Canonical Character Death, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Multi, No Incest, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Odin (Marvel)'s Bad Parenting, Past Relationship(s), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Self-Esteem, Self-Esteem Issues, Sentient Mjolnir (Marvel), Sentient Stormbreaker, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Thor (Marvel)-centric, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, a healthy dose of me projecting my problems onto thor, everybody else uses it/its for them, it's never outwardly said but it's implied that thor and mjolnir were a thing, stormbreaker kinda hates thor but only lowkey, this doesn't focus on romance at all really, thor uses she/her for mjolnir and stormbreaker, thor whump, which sounds weird out of context
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:47:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastelandzbaby/pseuds/wastelandzbaby
Summary: His face slipped naturally into a halfhearted smile, though his tears dripped just like hers. "Do you think I'm still worthy of Valhalla?"[ aka "the whole worthiness thing with Thor is kinda unhealthy" ]





	unworthy

**Author's Note:**

> this is kinda just me venting via thor but also bc after the "i'm still worthy" scene in endgame i couldn't stop thinking about how fucking terrible it'd be to have something like mjolnir that actively measures your worth to your nation and your family. like, how dependant must thor be on what his people think of him? jesus christ.
> 
> so, as an avid fellow-sufferer of Gifted Kid Burnout(tm), i took one for the team and tried to write this.
> 
> this might be a little strange bc i wrote it on 2 separate days, which is unusual for me, but oh well.  
> i might continue it if it's well-liked.

Ever since the brothers had been young, they had felt a great pressure to be worthy.

Odin was blunt, and always had been, and thus found no qualms in telling his sons exactly what he thought of them - he passed off his coldness as tough love, his forced competitive atmosphere as a sibling rivalry, and the arena that was his palace as a family home. The children lived on edge, with quick glances and unsteady balance, as if fearing that any falter in their actions would give the other room to gain their father's affections in full.

Or, simply put, they were not brothers, not at first. They were Odin's little warriors.

It was easier for an outsider to look at Loki and pity him, and think him the only one to have suffered from this situation. He was small and pale, dark-clad and calm with a sinister quietness in his tone. He found it quite easy - relaxing, perhaps - to slip silently into the shadows and watch from afar. He filled his role quite nicely as the dastardly little brother, the God of Mischief, and was regarded throughout Asgard as a wicked trickster. It came as no surprise, to some citizens, that the smaller, quieter, more conniving of the two was commonly overlooked by others of royal blood, whether Asgardian or otherwise.

This did not mean that Thor did not feel such pressures too. He had grown to be large and loud, strong in body and voice, with an insufferable cockiness to his tone that either enthralled or disgusted those who spoke to him. He fought with vigour and a distinct lack of mercy, thunder crackling at his fingertips and running through his veins - and yet found himself falling short when it came to more ordinary tasks. He could not blend into a crowd, never mind a shadow, and was so used to winning that nobody ever thought to teach him how to lose. It was as if someone had taken the poster child of Golden Child Syndrome and blown it up to epic proportions - a boy expected to be king before he was ever a man, taught only to be prideful and worthy.

It was always about worthiness.

Their mother - Frigga - would smile gently at them and weave their hair into beautiful plaits and braids, pinning them back and brushing through the loose strands of their hair with gentle fingers, and yet still speak quietly about their worthiness. She never said it outright, but the implications were enough; _sparring tomorrow, lessons tonight, try to make us proud._ Thor would smile boisterously and nod, enthusiastically informing his mother that they had yet to disappoint - and Loki would sit quietly, tugging gently at the hems of his clothing, begging the stars above and below that he would not make that untrue.

* * *

Mjolnir had been a good idea in theory, giving Thor motivation to better himself, to drop his cockiness and carelessness and become truly, honestly worthy - and yet it had become a sort of necessity to him somewhere along the line.

It had not been apparent to Loki until Ragnarok, after Hela had already destroyed the hammer, and Thor's fingers would occasionally twitch as if to summon it, or his fists would tighten around thin air. Mjolnir had become a safety blanket, a reassurance that he was still worthy despite all that he had done and all that he hadn't done, despite all the orders he'd resisted and all the promises he'd broken.

After losing Odin's demanding presence and the endless praise he gained from being the perfect child, he fell back onto Mjolnir; it proved that he was still worthy, that Odin would still be proud, that he was still loved.

Loki watched this development with concern, and a twitch of envy.

* * *

_(Past-Loki felt when future-Thor reached for Mjolnir, his skin prickling with goosebumps - as it was the wrong hammer, the wrong god, the wrong time. He couldn't see his brother's future self, and yet cried for him nonetheless, as Mjolnir's weeping at the sight of him resonated deep in his heart._

_He didn't explain his tears to Thor, not even when he came to interrogate him about the missing weapon.)_

* * *

Stormbreaker was not Mjolnir, but she would have to be enough.

He sometimes wondered if Mjolnir was still intact somewhere, hidden by Hela and weakened by Ragnarok, and he simply wasn't worthy of her anymore - he certainly wasn't worthy of Stormbreaker, now, as he'd watched Loki die mere days after witnessing his sister suffer the same fate. He had become alone and not even fought against it, and Mjolnir would turn her nose up at such things if she'd ever inhabited a body. Such cowardice and malice was never admired by her, not even when he was young and bratty.

But alas, neither he nor Stormbreaker had any other choice. She had been specially forged for him, a mockery of Mjolnir's similar creation, and pulsed strangely in his hands. He did not reach for her the same, and she did not come with the same enthusiasm.

She didn't think him worthy. That was fine. She was not Mjolnir, and he did not need to be worthy to wield her.

* * *

He should've aimed for the head.

Stormbreaker dripped with Thanos' blood and whispered his words as if they were a prayer, over and over again, buzzing around Thor's head worse than any thought ever had. He went to reach for her, and she whispered louder, dripping with discontent.

She had never wanted to be forged. She had never asked to be his. He was unworthy of even her.

He lowered his hand to his side, wheezed deeply, and turned to scream away from her gaze.

_(She heard him anyway, loud and clear, and screamed back. He missed the sound of Mjolnir's voice.)_

* * *

Stormbreaker dripped with more of the Mad Titan's blood, shrieked with more of her rage, felt wrong in his hands.

"What did you do?" somebody asked - he couldn't hear them over the buzz in his skull and the throb of his heartbeat, but he answered anyway, straightening uncomfortably, schooling his face into something less broken.

"I aimed for the head," he stated plainly, and stalked out of the room.

* * *

Valkyrie caught him with a knife turned backwards, and pressed him against the counter, wrestling it from his grasp.

"You're not doing this," she insisted, voice as broken as he felt, "You're never doing this, okay?"

He barely listened, too busy watching the tears bead in her eyes, scanning every scrunch and distortion on her face as she glared at him with fear in her eyes. She was holding the blade now, turned away from him, held far enough away that he couldn't reach for it even if he tried.

His face slipped naturally into a halfhearted smile, though his tears dripped just like hers. "Do you think I'm still worthy of Valhalla?"

Her face crumpled slightly, glare lessening. Stepping back, she dropped the knife on the opposite counter, never quite taking her eyes off him as he wavered on his feet, unsteady from drinking til he couldn't feel.

"I dearly, sincerely hope," she growled, "that you never fucking try and find out."

She pulled him close, and he wept.


End file.
